


Expectations

by AlexisGreen (thealexmachina)



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Interspecies Romance, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex, Smut, minor plot but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 21:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealexmachina/pseuds/AlexisGreen
Summary: "Kandros listens and provides pertinent input, straightforward, no politics involved. He even laughs at her jokes, something she’s sure is not in the job description, a warm two-toned chuckle that seems to vibrate out of him. Sara appreciates it; friends are not easy to come by in the Nexus leadership."





	Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 3 of Mass Effect Relationships Week. Hope you enjoy.

The first time she seeks him out, Tiran Kandros is generous with advice. After all, he offered, during their first meeting, so she is taking him up on it. Navigating Addison’s mercurial moods proves to be a full-time job, valuable time she cannot afford to waste, not when she has outposts to set up, a new alliance with the Angara to establish, and remaining arks to find. Oh, and chasing an enemy they hardly understand. Kandros listens and provides pertinent input, straightforward, no politics involved. He even laughs at her jokes, something she’s sure is not in the job description, a warm two-toned chuckle that seems to vibrate out of him. Sara appreciates it; friends are not easy to come by in the Nexus leadership.

When she returns to Nexus with news of Natanus and the turians’ location, she goes to Kandros first. His relief is visible, green eyes alight with hope, though concerns still trouble him. Yet even in such difficult moments, he finds the time to listen to her worry over Remnant vaults and terraforming worlds and kett bases and experiments. He focuses her, reminding her of what they have today but didn’t have yesterday - more turians rescued, a new Pathfinder, an embassy on Aya and scientists on Havarl. Sara is grateful for his support, but nowhere near as glad as Kandros is that she is out there every day, working to make this new galaxy into a fitting home.

Tann’s infuriating tendency to claim achievements as his own is the reason she asks for Kandros’ advice a third time. His no-nonsense approach is tempered by sympathy, suggesting he’s been in her shoes a few times before. Sara’s happy to have him as a sounding board; he has downplayed his past in the Hierarchy, back in the Milky Way, but SAM has dug up enough detail to give Sara a deeper appreciation of his expertise. 

Sometime between their fourth and fifth meeting, they are no longer Pathfinder and Kandros to one another, but Sara and Tiran. Vid calls from the Tempest to his omnitool get more frequent, more spontaneous. Strike mission reports suddenly include notes and suggestions for Sara’s crew, intel flowing through quickly and accurately. Despite the distance separating them, they work together as a team, as friends.

It’s months later, on a rare break on the Nexus, that he rescues her from a frankly frightening game of thresher maws of doom with Kesh and Drack at Vortex. They talk over drinks, a watered-down Andromeda version of a mojito for Sara, a pale amber dextro-safe whiskey for him. The noise of the bar fades around them. Missions and worries are forgotten, at least for a while. By a stroke of luck, they’re left alone too, no emergency on the Tempest, no militia business to demand Tiran’s attention. It’s easy, so easy, to forget about talking and let looks linger. It’s late, nearly midnight by Earth standards, yet they never make it past the first order, Sara too busy blushing at the way his fingers brush along hers where they meet on the table. It’s not surprising to either of them that they go from friends to… more. A lot more. When you live each day as it may be the last, you take each chance for happiness and make it count. 

One moment, Sara trips over her feet following him out of Vortex, the next they’re slamming into the door to his quarters, as far away from all the ears and eyes on the Tempest as possible, her legs wrapped around his waist, his tongue on her neck working her into a frenzy. He holds her up easily, one large hand under her ass, the other gripping her shoulder. Her heavy breaths are drowned by his needy growls, as they attempt to strip each other and make out at the same time. Make out wins but just temporarily, her lips soft against his hard mouth, against his mandibles, his fingers tangled in her hair, her hands clinging to his shoulders. 

Overcome with desire, out of breath, eyes not leaving the other, they break for air. Minutes later, her jacket’s abandoned on an armchair, pieces of his armour litter the floor, and Sara’s skin peeks out through a couple of slashes at the front of her tshirt, where Tiran got a bit enthusiastic with the stripping part. Sara motions him to sit on the bed, a string of low lights casting shadows over her arms and legs while she discards her trousers and underwear with them.

Tiran welcomes her into his arms, breathing her in, fringe against a collarbone, mouth plates tantalisingly close to her breast. He moves backwards on the bed until he rests tall against the pillows. Sara crawls on top of him; she kneels, her forehead to his, hands on his cowl. She gives him a small kiss. “How do we do this?” 

He smiles in return, with a flutter of one mandible. In the half-light of his quarters, his hide looks darker and his plating even paler. His eyes are impossibly intense as he guides her. “Turn around, honey.” 

With her hands anchored on his knee spurs, skin to skin, her ass bracketed by his strong thighs, there’s still a brief moment when Sara feels vulnerable, all of her on display, despite his endearment. A little mirror on his desk a few feet away catches reflections of their embrace, and she’s captivated by the focus of his gaze. She watches him watching her, watching his own hands over her shoulder, one trapped between her legs, the other feeling the weight of her left breast in his palm. His tongue teases her ear, tickling a bit, moving to taste her neck. Between her legs, his hand gets more daring, teasing her thighs further apart, finding the moisture that’s been building between her lips. A quick flash of awareness jolts her and Sara grabs at his arm, pulling it back. She gives him a heavy look in the mirror and uses her teeth to pry off one glove, then the other. She trusts him not to unsheathe his talons into her. “No barriers,” she says. “Just you and me.”

Tiran nuzzles her temple, along the hairline, where the thinnest shine of sweat gathers in response to the bare fingers that part the folds of her pussy. Sara melts in his arms, vulnerability dissolved, and lets herself get carried away by his confident caress. The occasional drag of his talons, barely contained in their sheaths, on her breast is an exquisite contrast to the careful way he plays with her pussy, finger pads running along her folds, parting them, dipping in briefly to test her wetness, spreading it to her clit. He flicks it gently, with the lightest of touch, slow, unhurried, as if time stood still outside his quarters. Perhaps it has, she thinks, losing track of the minutes as pleasure builds inside her belly, at first slow, to match his rhythm, then unrelenting, as he takes his time never stopping in one place too long.

Tiran moves minutely behind her and in the space he’s created, she feels his plates shifting. Sara touches him there, deftly slipping fingers inside. The heavy weight of his cock pulses out of his slit. Tiran lets her feel the weep of his lubricant, sticky and slippery at once, his subharmonics deepening at her touch. He moves her hand out of the way, pulls her back into him until his cock is trapped between their bodies. His hand finds her pussy again and this time, he’s done playing. One finger, then two, slip inside her, testing her. Her legs fall open further, a knee now hooked on top of his. Eyes heavy with bliss, she sees his arm in the mirror, moving as he fingers her, bone and hard flesh inside warm cunt. Every push and pull, she wants to memorise. When he swipes a finger on top of her clit, she goes off, tightening on him, back jerking to the beat set by his fingers, shoulders curling in, as her body wants to hang on to him and prolong her indulgence.

She shivers in sheer abandon, basking in an aftermath of light caress, when his voice, low, guttural in her ear jolts her back to awareness. “I have a confession to make. I’ve been thinking about tasting you for months.” He touches a finger, one that thrust into her not three minutes past, to her lips, then brings it to his own mouth, tongue out to catch traces of her ecstasy. 

Sara whimpers, head resting on his sternum, breath punched out of her. He chuckles and there’s that clear undertone of affection in his laughter again. It makes the blush on her cheeks feel like nothing compared to the inferno burning in her blood. She turns slightly, not ready to leave the shelter of his body, but very ready to claim more of his attention. Arm curled behind his fringe, she brings their foreheads together and for a sweet moment, their bodies function in symbiosis, entirely dependent on each other. “Are you going to fuck me now or wait for a few more months, Kandros?”

There’s just the lightest flick of his tongue to her ear and he whispers. “Be careful what you wish for.” He boosts her ass in his lap, reaching across her front to position his cock along her pussy. She’s warm and he’s slick and the sensitivity of her earlier orgasm has worn off just enough to let her feel his shape, the thickness of it. The bump of his head against her clit sends shivers running along her spine and she squirms, hand reaching below to intertwine with his, two sets of fingers now feeling their near-joining. They keep up this dance of bodies, the rub of her ass at his root, his cock dragging outside her pussy, the slightest dip of his head inside accompanied each time by a hitch in Sara’s breathing. Their bodies burn together, feverish with desire, damp with the effort of this edging.

“Ready?”

Sara nods, voice choking back a high whine. It’s good he asks, because he’s thick and big, and it takes some time to take him in. He fucks with a precision she expects from his military training, but with the tenderness of a practiced lover, of one who has been intimate with humans before and knows his strength and her softness. A light pressure and nip of his talons flexing inside their sheaths at her hips are reminder enough that she can easily break under his hands. What’s really unexpected is how vocal he is. And dirty. He nibbles on her neck and tells her exactly what he feels. “You’re so fucking tight. And soft.” 

Sara would blush some more but all she can focus on is the stretch of her pussy around him, his hands holding her thighs spread open so she can see him jacking up into her. When he’s finally all the way inside, he hisses. “I can smell you,” he says in her ear. “Next time, I’ll make you ride my face, get you all worked up on my tongue.” Moisture drips out of her onto his thighs. “Maybe I’ll get you off like that.” Sara can’t watch anymore. Her head tips back onto his cowl, teeth threatening to break through lip as she bites back moan after moan. “Or maybe I’ll throw you face down, ass up and take my time with you. Do a little pathfinding of my own.”

That little joke reminds her that he’s still Tiran, rather than a sex fiend; it makes her giggle, then gasp as he thrusts up with a powerful snap of his hips. His next whisper floors her though, and her eyes roll back. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that? Look at us, have you seen anything hotter?” He angles her so the mirror reflects their coupled bodies and her gaze is drawn there. It would be obscene if not for the hand that hasn’t stopped caressing her breasts, his mouth that hasn’t stopped nuzzling the sensitive side of her neck and every other gesture that betrays his fondness. 

His voice wavers on the subsequent thrust but he stays incredibly articulate, making sure her translator picks up every word, every filthy thing he wants to tell her. “It’s so hot inside you. You’re scorching. Will you be thinking of this, next time you come on the Nexus? When you video me from your ship, with your crew around you, will you be able to hide that my voice gets you off?”

Sara’s ability to respond coherently erodes with each word, stiff back against his sternum. She moves together with him and it’s on sheer instinct, because he sure doesn’t make it easy not to fall to pieces.

“It does, doesn’t it? It’s okay, honey. I’ll keep talking.” His voice is a weapon of mass destruction, she thinks. Sara has no idea how he figured it out, but he’s absolutely right, she’s a goner for his voice. With his solid body underneath her, thrumming deep in his larynx, it’s even more formidable.

“Can you touch yourself for me, honey? You’ve got another one in you, don’t you?” Sara nods frantically. She rubs circles on her clit, fingers occasionally scissoring to feel her stretched pussy and his cock moving steadily inside her. His hips jerk faster, harder and harder, Sara wet and hot around his cock. She comes hard, vision blurry, fingers digging into his arm, knees weak and shaking. He savours her orgasm, every squeeze, every tremble, then spills inside her, body straining below hers, tension locked in all his muscles begging for release.

“So, that was new.” 

His nuzzling doesn’t stop. Sweat has cooled along her skin, but he is warm enough for them both. They’re lying sideways, and Tiran inhales another lungful of satisfied woman scent. “What, sleeping together? Is that what you call it?”

“Yeah. That too. The talking though. I didn’t know you had it in you.” She curls into him, stealing another pillow from him, happy to be the little spoon.

“You loved it,” he says, fingers running through the damp curls at her mound.

“Yeah, I did. I have a confession, too. Next time, I’ll definitely ride your face.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is welcome, appreciated and greedily consumed.


End file.
